Still less is known of the strength of Philip's confederated tribes. Pestilence and war had depopulated New England previous to the arrival of the Pilgrims. In 1675 the Pokanokets and Narragansets were the most powerful, and together mustered three or four thousand warriors. Philip was sachem of the Pokanokets and Canonchet of the Narragansets. These tribes constituted Philip's reliable strength, but he had confederated with him and pledged to the common cause the smaller chiefs of the Piscataqua and Merrimack, of central Massachusetts and the valley of the Connecticut. The Narragansets occupied what is now Rhode Island and the islands adjacent thereto, while Philip as the chief of the Pokanokets or Wampanoags had his seat at Montaup or Mount Hope. It was not, however, expedient or possible for him to consecrate a large force upon any one point. With his forces divided into war parties as necessity or circumstances dictated, he was able in the space of thirteen months to attack and partially or entirely destroy a great number of towns, among which were Brookfield, Lancaster, Marlboro', Sudbury, Groton, Deerfield, Springfield, Hatfield, Northfield, Northampton, Chelmsford, Andover, Medfield, Rehoboth, Plymouth, Scituate, Weymouth, and Middleborough in Massachusetts, and New Plymouth, Providence and Warwick in Rhode Island. Of these, twelve or thirteen were entirely destroyed.
Six hundred dwellings were burned, and sixteen hundred persons slain or carried into captivity. There was not a house standing between Stonington and Providence. It was as destructive as a war would now be to Massachusetts which should send twenty thousand able-bodied men to the grave, and render twenty thousand families houseless, and for the most part destitute. Had all the events of the Revolution been crowded into twelve months, the conflict would have been less terrible than was the war with Philip. His operations menaced and endangered the existence of the colony. There was a probability that the taunting threat of John Monoco, the leader of the party which burned Groton, that he would burn Chelmsford, Concord, Watertown, Cambridge, Charlestown, Roxbury and Boston, might even be executed. Hardly anything else remained of the Massachusetts colony on which the power and vengeance of Philip could fall. Points of the interior, to be sure, were garrisoned, but for the most part it was an unbroken forest, or marked only by heaps of smouldering ruins.
And here may we well pause and reflect, that however we or posterity may judge the Indian policy of our ancestors, the scenes through which they passed were not calculated to mitigate the horrors of war, or in the hour of triumph to awaken emotions of pity for the fallen.
As for the Indians, they were destroyed. Their great sachems had fallen. Anawon, Canonchet, Philip, were no more. Nor had their fighting men survived them. Their towns, of which they had many, were burned. And why should the humble wigwam remain when the heroic spirit of its occupant had departed?
And, worse than all, the women and children had been massacred or sold into slavery.
——"few remain
To strive, and those must strive in vain."
Peace came; but—sad thought—there was no treaty of peace. It was a war of extermination. Not often in the history of the world has it happened thus. The colonists believed that they had been fighting the battles of God's chosen people. Mather says, "the evident hand of Heaven appearing on the side of the people, whose hope and help were alone in the Almighty Lord of Hosts, extinguished those nations of savages at such a rate, that there can hardly any of them now be found under any distinction upon the face of the earth."
At some points in New Hampshire and the district of Maine, the fires of war flickered ere they went forever out. Omitting comparatively unimportant incursions, the Indian wars of Massachusetts and New Plymouth were ended. The existence of these hitherto feeble settlements was rendered certain. Although political and religious controversies occupied the attention of the settlers, they yet found means to cultivate the arts of peace. The forest was broken up, commerce was increased, agriculture flourished, new settlements were made, confidence was created, men saw before them a future in which they had hope. As our fathers passed from war to peace they forgot not their religious duties, and the 29th of June in Massachusetts, and the 17th of August in Plymouth, were set part as days of public thanksgiving and praise. Days of sadness, too, they must have been; days of woe as well as of triumph. The colonies were bereaved in the loss of brave and valuable men,—families were bereaved in the loss of homes,—and all were bereaved in the fall or captivity of kindred and friends. And could our ancestors have seen that this was the first great step in the red man's solemn march to the grave, a tear of sympathy would have fallen in behalf of a noble and heroic race.
The war was brief; its operations were rapid. In the space of less than fourteen months the Indians were exterminated and the whites reduced to the condition I have faintly portrayed. Yet, until the 19th of December, 1675, when the colonists made a most destructive attack upon the Indians at what is now South Kingston, the war had been confined chiefly to the valley of the Connecticut. But from that moment Philip was like a hungry tiger goaded in confinement, suddenly let loose upon his prey. The destruction of villages and the deadly ambuscade of bodies of men followed each other in quick succession. In the space of sixty days his forces attacked Lancaster, Medfield, Weymouth, Groton, Warwick, Marlboro', Rehoboth, Providence, Chelmsford, Andover and Sudbury. At least one half of the death and desolation of this war was crowded into this short period of time.
There was no security except in garrisons defended by armed men. The Indian marches exceeded in celerity the movements of well-furnished cavalry in civilized countries. Their women even aided in the march and in the camp. Accustomed to hardship and famine, they subsisted in a manner incredible to our time and race. And with one or two exceptions, when the colonists came upon the Indians unexpectedly, the latter were superior in the strategic arts of war, though in open fight their fire was much less destructive. It must be confessed that Captain Lathrop at Bloody Brook, and Captain Wadsworth at Sudbury, were, in a degree, incautious. Hubbard closes his account of the disaster with these words: